Pawn Of The Capitol
by GreenMaureen
Summary: Elissa Steele has the perfect life. She doesn't care much for other people, and she uses them to get what she wants. But she's not the only manipulative, power-hungry person in Panem. When she's selected for the Hunger Games, she gets a taste of her own medicine.
1. Perfect Life, Right?

A/N: Yay, another Hunger Games fanfic! I know, I know, I haven't even finished my other one yet. But I got tired of writing from such a nice character's point of view, so I'm taking a little break to get to know another character… and this one is someone that I'm going to enjoy writing into terrible situations. Enjoy!

"Elissa! Time to get up!" My mother's voice invades my dreams and ruins my sleep. She always comes upstairs to wake me up on Reaping Day, since on every other day of the year she's still asleep when I leave for school. I wish I could sleep in every day. I guess that's one of the perks of being the mayor's wife.

"I'm awake. Go away." I open my eyes and sit up to see my mother's face looming over me. She looks very similar to me. I have her blond hair, small nose and chin, and high cheekbones. I am four inches taller than her though. She laughs at me and hurries out of the room, slamming the door with a bang. Great. Now I'm really awake.

I slowly drag myself out of bed. I wash my face in the basin and clean my teeth. Opening my wardrobe, I begin the difficult task of putting together an outfit. Today, more than any other day, I have to look stunning. After half an hour of indecision, I decide on a green synthetic silk dress that brings out my eyes. It has short, draped sleeves and a fitted skirt with a mid-thigh hem. I really wanted a real silk dress, but this was the best that my father could get. At least the color will be eyecatching among the masses of faded old clothes most other people will be wearing. I accent it with the silver starburst necklace I got for my sixteenth birthday.

Standing in front of the mirror, I put on the makeup my father got me from the Capitol. Examining my reflection, I practice my smile. The black kohl and green eye shadow make my eyes look perfect. I have blue-green highlights in my hair as well- some loser girl at school figured out how to put in highlights with chemicals from the electronics workshop—and the effect is striking. I know I'll stand out from the crowd.

I go downstairs and drink the coffee my mother left for me. There's a knock on the door and I answer it. It's Owen, a boy from school.

"Hello," I say to him. "What are you doing at my house?" I make sure that my expression conveys that I'm not really mad at him for showing up uninvited.

He runs his hand through his already-mussed dark curly hair. "Uh, I was wondering if I could walk you to the square for the reaping."

He has confidence. Well, might as well say yes. It will be nice to arrive at the reaping with a boy, and the one I've been dating most recently hasn't shown up here yet, so I'm assuming he doesn't care. "Very gentlemanly of you," I say with a half-smile. My father comes downstairs, dressed in his best suit to address the people of District Three.

"Oh, good morning, Elissa. I was just going to suggest you leave now, to get a good spot. You know how the crowds are." He glances at Owen, who is still standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And who is this? I thought you were seeing that young man- what was his name?"

I roll my eyes and cringe inwardly. "Daddy, I'm not seeing Jonas anymore." He was boring and he cared more about his bratty little brother than me, but my father doesn't need to know the details. "This is Owen."

Owen's face has turned red. "Hello, Mayor Steele. Is it all right if I walk your daughter to the reaping?"

My father shakes his head. "Takes after her mother, doesn't she," he mutters. Then he looks up. "Yes, that'll be fine, son."

"Bye, Daddy," I say, shooting him a glare behind Owen's back. I follow him out the door. Owen and I don't have far to walk, since the mayor's house is just down the road from the square. Owen takes my hand as we stroll along the street. Yes, he is confident. Will he be more committed than Jonas? Time will tell.

From down the block, I can see someone walking toward us. I have a suspicion of who it might be. As we get closer, I realize I'm right. It's Jonas. His reddish hair is a mess, and he looks mad. "Elissa!" he calls. What are you doing?"

"I'm walking," I say coolly.

"I was on my way to your house! I would have brought you," he says.

"Too late, Owen got here first," I inform him.

Owen drops my hand. "I'm so sorry, Jonas, I didn't know-"

"My little brother's sick, I had to help take care of him."

"Stay away from me then, I don't want your germs. You made your choice."

Jonas steps closer to me. "Don't I mean anything to you? You meant the world to me. I thought I could trust you. I trusted you with everything I was-"

I back up a step and grab Owen's hand again. "Then you should have fixed your priorities. I should have been your first priority, _not_ your bratty brother."

He looks angry now. He'll want revenge. "Then I'll tell everyone-"

I interrupt him. "Go ahead. See if I care, it'll be more embarrassing for you than for me."

He starts to walk away, then turns around. "Elissa, I thought I loved you."

I don't even dignify that with a response. Jonas runs away, and I walk to the square with Owen in an awkward silence. Even I can't think of anything to say after that. I'll have to explain things to Owen after the reaping.

We reach the square and go through the usual check-in procedure. I go and stand with the sixteen-year-olds, where my friends are saving a spot for me. "Hey," I say to them. A chorus of "hey, Elissa" and "you look great" answers me. I stand next to my best friend, Halia. "Remember the deal?" I say, grinning at her. "That's right," she replies, flipping her choppy black-and-violet hair. When we were twelve, we made a deal that if either one of us were chosen, the other would volunteer. Of course, we'll never have to worry about that as neither of us needs tesserae.

"Hello, District Three, and welcome! Welcome to the Thirty-third Annual Hunger Games!" The long, boring ceremony starts, and I occupy myself by mentally critiquing my friends' outfits. Halia is wearing a violet blouse that matches her highlights with black trousers that fit her perfectly, despite being hand-me-downs from her mother. The others are all in new dresses or skirts above the knee, usually linen or cotton with bright floral patterns and whatever jewelry they own. The highlights are catching on, and I'm glad I was the first to wear them (well, other than that loser girl).

Finally, the Capitol escort gets up to read the names. My friends and I break into a fit of giggling when we see her hair. She has highlights just like mine. "Elissa, you started a trend," whispers Halia.

I smother a grin, as I'm now getting glared at by the anxious and paranoid girls around me. I'm actually a little nervous myself. I know all of my friends would be willing to volunteer for me if I was ever chosen, but what if Halia is chosen and everyone expects me to volunteer for her?

The escort clears her throat and unfolds a slip of paper. "And this year's female tribute will be… Elissa Steele!"

Really? I smile automatically and walk carefully up to the stage. I wonder which of my friends will volunteer. I hope it's not Halia. I hope it's one of the girls I could really care less about.

Well, I'm about to find out now. We're all waiting for it.

_Why is no one volunteering? _

_ Any second now._

_ Halia! What about the deal?_

_ I look at my father. He looks shocked._

_ Not as shocked as me._

I am alone. Elissa Steele is alone. How is this possible?

The escort draws a boy's name. "Jonas Fuse."

I cannot believe this. It's so unfair. Someone messed with the slips.

Jonas climbs the stage. He looks like he's about to cry.

We shake hands. The crowd applauds. My friends. My friends are applauding.

Peacekeepers come and take us to the Justice Building. I'm left in a room alone. I cry. I don't want to die. A Peacekeeper knocks on the door. He says, there are some people here to see you. I look out the door past him and I see my mother. I see some of the boys I used to date. I see Halia the traitor. I do not see my father. I do not see Owen. I do not feel like talking to these people.

"Tell them to go away."

"Miss, there is a one in twenty-four chance that you will ever see them again."

"Too bad. Tell them."

"Fine, then. Your loss."

The door shuts. I am alone. Elissa Steele is alone. How is this possible?


	2. To the Capitol!

Three weeks. Three weeks of public appearances, training and coaching. The outfits I've worn were gorgeous—my dress for the opening ceremonies was a bizarre but pretty creation, with half of the bodice and most of the skirt made entirely of fake wires and circuit boards. I got more applause than the Careers.

Training, though, was a nightmare. I tried a few stations and gave up because the Careers wouldn't stop laughing at me. "Hey, blondie! Can't even climb a rope?" "Careful with that knife, you might break a nail!"

That completely ruined my other goal: to get in with the Careers. The only difference between them and me, after all, is that they've trained more. So what? I'm taller than the other girls, for crying out loud. And the one from Four has a face like a rat. I tried to be friendly to her district partner, August. But that completely backfired, and they kicked me out of their lunch table. Now a bunch of the younger, scrawnier guys from the poorer districts follow me around like I'm going to talk to them just because the Careers won't. Do they have no shame?

Interview night went only slightly better than training. When I took the stage, the Careers started booing me. The Peacekeepers had to shut them up. Caesar Flickerman made some stupid joke about them being jealous, and the audience laughed. The interview was pretty boring until he said,

"Now, of course we know you'll want to win this for your family and your district. But is there anyone special back in Three that's waiting for you to get home?"

I glanced at Jonas, who hadn't even talked to me during training. I flipped back my perfectly curled hair. (I'm so proud of this moment.) And I said:

"Nope. No one from Three." (It was difficult to avoid looking at August right then, but I knew that would be way too obvious.)

"_Really_?" Caesar replied, to thunderous applause. I nodded and grinned like an idiot, because I couldn't think of anything to say. But fortunately, my three minutes were up. He wrapped up the interview and sent me back to my seat. At that moment, I was sure the audience loved me.

Now, though, I'm not so sure. Actually, I feel like I'm about to pass out. I'm in the Launch Room, trying to prepare to go into the arena. This doesn't feel real; I must be dreaming.

I repeatedly smooth my pinned-up hair, though I'm actually just messing it up more. The turquoise streaks washed out long ago, and my stylist, Amity, said it was just as well because vibrant hair colors are so common in the Capitol. Natural hair will make me stand out more.

She's sitting with me now, trying to calm me down. "Elissa, you'll be okay."

I glare at her. "How in the hell am I going to be 'okay'?" I told you how bad I am at training! I told you how the Careers hate me!" (Why am I baring my fears to this strange woman, with her obviously dyed, blunt-cut cinnamon hair and amber-pigmented eyes? Why do I trust her?)

She makes a really fake sympathetic face. "It's not that bad. You're going to have _sooo_ many sponsors. And you weren't _that_ bad in training." (She hasn't even seen the videos. She has no idea what she's talking about.)

I duck my head. "Whatever." I cross to the mirror. I know it's a window on the other side, but I don't care. I check my reflection and sigh. Hardly any makeup, undyed hair yanked straight back into a knot. And the arena uniform is so plain—tan linen knee-length trousers, brown sleeveless tunic, leather belt and fitted shoes. And this giant, shapeless linen vest with zillions of pockets. I sigh. If I'm going to be watched by the nation and then killed, I'd like to look a little more like myself. I tie the vest so it's at least slightly fitted, and roll down the waist of the trousers, then turn to Amity for approval.

She shakes her head. "Standing out like that is going to make you a target, but if that's all right with you, be my guest."

I shrug. The Careers already hate me. Before I can think of a reply to that, the intercom crackles. "One minute." I stare at the transparent lift tube in the corner and try to keep from throwing up.

Suddenly, I make up my mind. "I'm not going in."

Amity gestures at the tube. "Oh, sweetie, no one wants to. Just get it over with. It'll be easier that way."

I shake my head. "No. I'm not doing this."

She puts her hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry. You have to go now."

I throw her hands off. "No. I won't."

The voice again. "Fifteen seconds."

Unexpectedly, she hugs me. "Elissa, sweetie, I'm so sorry I have to do this." She hits a button on a metal bracelet she's wearing. "Security, we have a noncompliant tribute. Room one-oh-five."

I stare at her. How could she?

"Ten seconds."

A pair of Peacekeepers rushes in. One has a gun drawn. I quickly put my hands up. The other Peacekeeper grabs my shoulders and starts dragging me towards the tube. I kick him where I think it will hurt the most—the one thing I remember from training.

Unfortunately, he's wearing armor and it hurts me more than him. He shoves me into the lift tube and slams the hatch shut. I sink to the ground. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One." The platform starts rising. I try to stand. I am a noncompliant tribute. My legs will not obey me. I squeeze my eyes shut, then feel warm rain falling on my face. I open my eyes. I am out of the lift tube. I am curled up in a ball on my platform. I try to stand up again, and almost roll off. I barely stop myself.

I just escaped death. I could have died. If I hadn't caught myself, Elissa Steele would have ceased to exist. I am the only one who can stop that from happening. I try a third time to stand up. This time, I'm successful. I stare all around me. It's raining hard and I can barely see anything. I look down. Bare, gray rock surrounds my platform. In front of me, I see the Cornucopia, but the opening is pointed away from me. In the distance, I see more rock, covered with moss and lichen, and then faraway green smears that look like plants. I look to my left. Jonas. I look to my right. August. I turn my head as far behind me as I can, and see a mountain in the distance. I turn forward again. The rain soaks me, and I'm shivering.

The countdown. I can't hear what the voice is saying; the rain is pounding my eardrums. But I recognize the sound of the gong.

The Hunger Games have begun. It's time to see if Elissa Steele lives or dies.


	3. The Games, Part I

I have to run. Which way? No time. I try to jump off the platform and hit the ground running, but the rock is slippery. My ankle twists and I scream louder than I thought possible. I collapse and catch myself with my hands, and now my arms are burning. I try to start running again, but my ankle hurts too much. I hop like an idiot, flailing my arms to keep my balance. Which way am I even going? My eyes are filled with rain and tears, but I see a big blurry shape. I hope it's the mountain and not the Cornucopia. I think I'm right, because I can hear shouting behind me. And now I can hear running feet. Someone is behind me, but if I turn around I'll fall again.

"Hey, blondie!" It's one of the female Careers. I don't know which. "Are you a bunny now? A fat, stupid, DEAD bunny?"

I keep hopping, wishing she would drop dead on the spot. I try to imagine that the ground is her face, and that I can crush it by pushing off harder. That gives me a little burst of energy, but I think she's getting closer…

WHAM. A big THING hits me and knocks me to the ground. She tackled me! I scream every insult I can think of while clawing at her. My ankle feels even worse, but now she's got her hands around my neck and I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I keep clawing, and my fingernails hit something soft- an eye?

She screeches and lets go of my neck. Somehow I get to my feet, but she's still grabbing at me. Her hand brushes my bad ankle and I can't take it anymore. I stomp on her face and she stops. I'm safe for now. I can't believe this. I'm going to throw up. But first I need to get out of here.

I look down for one second. It's the rat-faced girl, though now her face looks less ratlike. She has a shoulder bag from the Cornucopia, and I yank it off her limp arm before I realize what I'm doing. No one is coming after us, to aid her or to kill me. We are a lot further from the Cornucopia than I thought. But I still need to leave.

I hop until my leg can't take it anymore, then force myself to walk on both legs. Every few minutes, I force myself to look over my shoulder and make sure no one's behind me. The Cornucopia doesn't seem to get any smaller, but I must be covering some distance, because I can't hear the fighting anymore. I still feel like I'm going to throw up. I think I'm crying, but it might just be the rain. I'm shaking so much I can barely stay upright. Eventually, the ground starts to get uneven. There are boulders everywhere. There's no way I can keep walking, so I find a place where I can hide inside a cluster of boulders. Rain is still falling on me, and I'm angry at the rain. I open the bag I got from Rat-Girl. There's a package of disgusting dried fruit, a package of crackers, an empty water container, and a big sheet of plastic. I put the water container where the rain will fill it, try to cover myself with the sheet of plastic, and fall asleep.

It's still raining when the cannon wakes me up. I count 16 shots. That's a lot. People must have slipped on the ground, I realize. The Careers probably trained for something like this. That gives them an even bigger advantage than usual. I fall asleep again.

I'm woken up by the anthem. I can't see the screen in the sky, so I come out of my hiding place to watch the faces of the dead. It starts with District Five. I realize that everyone is dead except Jonas, the Careers, and me. Wonderful.

Now I can't sleep. I'm starving, so I eat about half of my crackers and try to choke down some dried fruit. I wash it down with gross-tasting rainwater.

What to do now? Stay hidden in here? No. I'm about to come out when I hear voices outside.

"I'm not walking any further. We camp here. Now."

"You idiot, we're out in the open. What if Bunny-Girl or what's-his-face shows up while we're asleep?"

"There's six of us and two of them. We can take watches. In fact, you can take the first one."

"Fine. Whatever. Everyone should get a watch with their district partner. One, then Two, then Four. If anyone falls asleep during their own watch, I'll personally slit their throat."

There's some more chatter, and some sounds as they spread out their stuff. Then everyone stops talking.

Great. Now I'm stuck here for as long as they are. I try to pass the time by braiding my hair in different ways, but it's getting all knotted and I give up. I try to wash my sweaty face and arms with rainwater, but it really doesn't help. I smell horrible. And I've had to pee for a while now. It's too disgusting to think about, but eventually I go in a corner of my hiding place, as far as possible from where I have my stuff arranged. Now it smells even worse, and I'm about to cry.

How many hours have gone by? They've changed shifts twice. That means August and Rat-Girl must be on watch. Everything is silent… And then I hear someone start to snore. Loudly.

It must be Rat-Girl. August could never snore that disgustingly. Which means that August is the only one awake. If I'm going to win him over as an ally, this is my only chance.

I pack up all my things, then slowly crawl out of the hiding space. "August!" I hiss under my breath.

He turns and looks at me in disbelief. "You realize you just killed yourself, right?" he whispers.

"Wait. If you stay with your pack, you'll all turn on each other eventually. If you stay with me, I'll help you kill the rest of the pack, and then you'll have a one in three chance. Doesn't that sound much better?"

I try to flutter my eyelashes at him, feeling slightly awkward.

He snorts. "So, your reason for offering this alliance is for you to stay alive just a bit longer?"

"No, it's because I can't stand to see that rat-girl throwing herself at you when you deserve so much better."

He shakes his head. "You're ridiculous, but I'll take you up on that offer. Care to help me kill off this pack?"

"Do you really think I know how to without waking them up?"

"No. You're an idiot. Just stay where I can see that you aren't going to stab me in the back."

I turn away while he kills the Careers. I can't look at them.

That's when I realize: He just agreed to kill five of his allies within a minute to improve his own chances of survival. I've just allied myself with a psychopath.

And I can't exactly run away now. I'm stuck with him… unless we run into Jonas.


End file.
